Return of the Elvhenan
by X-Shadow.of.Darkness-X
Summary: Aerion Mahariel is killed during the Battle at Vigil's Keep. But instead of moving on to rest with the Creators, he is sent back to the land of the living with a purpose: to retake the city of Arlathan. To do so, he must assemble a team of elves, and reclaim his ancestral homeland. M!MaharielxVelanna
1. Chapter 1

**Return of the Elvhenan**

**Summary:**** Aerion Mahariel is killed during the Battle at Vigil's Keep. But instead of moving on to rest with the Creators, he is sent back to the land of the living with a purpose: to retake the city of Arlathan. To do so, he must assemble a team of elves, and reclaim his ancestral homeland.**

**A/N:**** Like my other Dragon Age story, ****_Mahariel_, I shall be playing rather fast and loose with the Dragon Age lore in this story.**

**Originally, this story started as a possible sequel to the above story, but as I thought about it more and more, I decided it would work better as a stand-alone piece. You will see why more and more as this story unfolds.**

**Enjoy!**

**-x-x-x-x-x-**

The noise that rose from the battle at Vigil's Keep was deafening. All around, the sound of steel ringing against steel, the crackling and stuttering of flames, and the cries and shouts of men, women and darkspawn as they battled. The entire Keep was a confused mess, a tangle of bodies barely differential from one to the other.

Aerion Mahariel twisted his body, bringing one of his blades up to block a darkspawn sword, using his other dagger to slice open the beast's midsection, jumping lithely away to avoid the guts spilling onto the floor. He raised a hand, brushing his hair out of his face and looked around at his companions.

A few feet away, Oghren was swinging wildly with his huge battleaxe, cleaving darkspawn in half left, right and centre in enormous arcs. Bolstering the troops at the main gate was Justice, his blade a blur, felling two or three darkspawn to each one the soldiers killed. Sigrun winked in and out of sight as she moved across the battlefield, felling darkspawn and moving onto her next target just as quickly. At the top of the stone steps leading to the main Keep stood Nathaniel, Velanna and Anders, raining arrows and spells down into the fray, cutting down any unsuspecting darkspawn.

Aerion ducked under the sword of a massive darkspawn, slicing its arm off at the elbow before removing its head, and turned his attention back to the battle. The Battle of Denerim, while enormous in scale, had at least been able to be managed. This, on the other hand, was chaos. Steel flashed through the air on all sides, and it took every iota of Aerion's concentration to keep himself relatively safe from harm.

"They're scaling the walls!" a soldier shouted nearby. Aerion whipped round to see several darkspawn pulling themselves onto the walls of the Keep, drawing bows and nocking arrows.

Aerion moved quickly. Sheathing his daggers, he pulled his bow off of his back, sprinting as fast as he could toward the walls. A hurlock stepped in front of him, trying to block his route, but he drew an arrow, aimed, fired and retrieved the arrow from the hurlock's body without breaking his stride.

He had nearly reached the walls when something huge crashed into his side, sending him flying into a group of soldiers. Aerion pulled himself to his feet, looking around for his attacker while the soldiers groaned underfoot. He didn't have to look for long. A huge, hulking ogre, clad from head to toe in shining armor roared, the noise echoing around the Keep and causing the ground to shake underfoot.

Aerion ran forward again, closing the distance between himself and the ogre, but the beast swiped with one arm, knocking the elf across the flagged stone ground as easily as it would bat a fly away.

The elf pushed himself to his feet again, drawing an arrow and watching his opponent carefully. The ogre roared again and charged, knocking humans and darkspawn alike out of its way in its pursuit of the Warden-Commander. Aerion fired the arrow, aiming for the ogre's eyes, but he missed, the arrow clattering against the ogre's helm and spinning away, lost in the battle.

Aerion dove out of the way as the ogre attempted to ram him, rolling through and landing on his feet. He looked around, and could just see by the flickering light of the flames spreading through the Keep that the back of the ogre's legs were relatively unprotected.

Standing up, Aerion slung his bow back onto his back and drew his daggers. He stood, ready and waiting, as the ogre turned, looking around for its errant prey. Spotting Aerion again, the ogre roared, charging forward once more.

Aerion waited until the last possible moment, ducking under an outstretched arm and rolling behind the beast. He lashed out with his dagger as he rolled onto one knee, the blade slicing deep into the back of the ogre's ankle.

The noise the ogre emitted then was one that Aerion had never heard before, a deafening shriek that caused several of the surrounding men to cover their ears. Aerion pressed his advantage, sheathing his daggers and scrambling up the ogre's back, perching, catlike, on its shoulders. The ogre bucked and thrashed, trying to dislodge the elf, but Aerion held on tight.

Aerion reached down, sliding his fingers under the ogre's helmet. He could feel the ogre's hot, moist breath on his skin, and began pulling upwards, trying to wrench the helmet off. The ogre swung its arms, trying to reach the elf.

Eventually, the helmet came loose, the steel heavy in Aerion's hand. Aerion scanned his eyes around, before settling on a target. He hurled the helmet at a nearby hurlock with all his strength, the heavy metal armor knocking the darkspawn to the floor to be promptly stabbed by an Amaranthine soldier.

Aerion grabbed onto one of the ogre's horns, his other hand drawing one of his daggers again. The ogre seemed to sense the danger it was in, and resumed its thrashing, even more frenetically than before. Aerion reached down, than drew his blade across the ogre's throat.

Warm blood spurted from the gash, painting the stone below crimson red. The ogre shuddered then fell forward, landing heavily on the ground. Aerion jumped forward as the ogre collapsed, landing on his feet and stabbing the nearest hurlock.

"Commander! Behind you!"

Aerion turned, raising his daggers as a group of hurlocks and genlocks raced toward him, weapons raised and snarling at the Warden. Aerion raised his daggers, crouching down and readying himself for the inevitable clash.

It never came. Instead, something small flew through the air into the centre of the group, exploding moments later, throwing rubble and darkspawn limbs high into the air. Aerion looked around for his savior, spying Dworkin and a small band of dwarves stood high on a roof, tossing bombs into the crowds of darkspawn below.

"My thanks, Dworkin!" Aerion shouted. Dworkin gave him a small salute in return before returning to tossing explosives into particularly dense groups of darkspawn.

Aerion resumed running through the battle, thrusting and slashing with his blades as he went, cutting down all darkspawn in his path. Reaching the wall, he spied a large pile of rubble, forming a makeshift ramp up to the top of the walls. He decapitated two more darkspawn then scrambled up the rubble, hoisting himself onto the wall.

Genlock archers were spaced several feet apart, raining arrows with wild abandon into the fray below, seemingly not concerned with whether their arrows hit friend or foe. Aerion killed three archers before his presence amongst them was realized. He kicked a fourth off of the wall and used a fifth as a shield before firing his own arrows into the archers, picking them off one by one with laser precision.

One of the genlocks fired an arrow towards Anders, the shaft buzzing through the air. As Aerion watched, Velanna stretched out an arm, using her magic to stop the arrow in midair, turn it around, and send it flying back towards Aerion. Aerion made to duck, but the arrow whizzed past him, embedding in a hurlock skull behind him. The hurlock gave a low grunt as it fell off the wall, a trail of black blood streaming behind it.

He didn't know what it was that made him look down into the battle, but when he did, a large Disciple caught his attention. It stood head and shoulders over the tallest on the field and was encased in black armor, its helmet adorned with large, vicious spikes. Behind it, a large flail dragged along the ground, making a horrible screeching sound.

A group of soldiers ran towards the Disciple, swords raised, ready to engage the darkspawn. The Disciple swung its arm, the enormous spiked ball whistling through the air, smashing into the men. They were lifted off the ground as easily as rag dolls, their screams lost in the din of battle as they soared through the air.

Aerion fired off one last arrow, killing the final genlock archer, then, slinging his bow onto his back and drawing his daggers, jumped from the wall, landing solidly on top of a hurlock emissary, impaling it with his dagger as its staff snapped clean in half. Aerion scrambled to his feet, wrenching his dagger free and running to engage the Disciple.

The Disciple swung its flail again, this time aiming for Aerion. Aerion ducked, the flail whistling over his head, his hair ruffling in the slipstream as it passed overhead. He pushed forward, running as fast as he could to cover the distance between himself and the Disciple before the darkspawn could recover from its attack.

Aerion swung his daggers as he reached the Disciple, aiming to remove its weapon arm, but the blades simply bounced off the black armor, barely leaving a scratch. In response, the Disciple backhanded Aerion hard across the face, sending the Warden Commander sprawling to the ground.

Aerion shook his head, trying to clear the stars from his eyes. His vision returned just in time for him to see the Disciple's flail falling through the air towards him. He rolled to the side, climbing to his feet as the flail pounded into the ground, leaving a small crater, chunks of stone kicking up from the impact.

Aerion backed up quickly, ducking and weaving to avoid the flail, getting closer and closer to the Keep's door. The crowd of combatants parted as they approached, not wanting to be caught by the devastating attacks of the Disciple. Aerion managed a few strikes with his daggers, but they continued to bounce off of the armor. The elf had no idea what it was made of, but whatever it was, it was incredibly sturdy. Arrows were bouncing off the armor, and yet the Disciple continued to shrug off the attacks.

Finally, Aerion caught a break. The Disciple swung its flail yet again, but this time, the ball caught in a wall, lodging itself firmly, not budging as the Disciple tugged at the chain. Aerion dove forward, kicking out with his right foot, knocking the Disciple backwards. The darkspawn let go of the flail, abandoning the weapon, instead drawing a long, broad sword from its hip. A long, thin scratch ran down the length of the blade.

If the Disciple had been deadly with the flail, it was even more so with its broadsword. As with the flail, its attacks were slow, but so much weight was behind each strike that it took all of Aerion's strength to block each one.

They started up the steps, Aerion slowly backing up, delivering strikes with his daggers whenever he could. The Disciple, despite the lower ground, still managed to hold the advantage, advancing further and further, forcing the Warden Commander back.

Suddenly, Aerion fell backwards, his foot catching on a stone step. His daggers clattered away down the steps as the Disciple bore down on him. Slowly, as though assured of its victory, the Disciple reached down, its hand closing around Aerion's neck and lifting him off the floor, then turned, holding Aerion's head back, its blade resting across the Warden's neck.

"Look!" the Disciple roared over the din of battle. "See your Hero fall!"

Silence descended over the courtyard, Warden, soldier and darkspawn alike stopping to watch the events unfold.

Aerion felt the Disciple's grip shift on its sword. Before it could move, Aerion drove his elbow into the darkspawn's stomach, the impact staggering the Disciple slightly, allowing Aerion to wriggle loose. He turned to face the Disciple, but as he did so, the Disciple's gauntleted fist smashed across his face, spinning him round a full 180 degrees.

Aerion didn't feel the broadsword enter him. But he saw it leave, punching through his chest piece, the long blade slicked with dark red blood. _His_ blood. He gasped, feeling an iciness spreading from where the blade had pierced him. He was dimly aware of someone screaming, but he couldn't see who it was. His vision was wavering, and he could taste the coppery flavor of blood in his mouth.

He sunk to his knees, his legs unable to keep him upright. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. He felt the Disciple's boot at his back, holding him as the blade was wrenched from his body. His mouth was filling with blood, the red liquid spilling out, running down his chin.

He couldn't keep himself upright. His body pitched forward, tumbling down the stairs. It may have hurt, but he didn't know anymore. He landed at the foot of the steps, his body a broken mess.

_I failed,_ he thought, and he knew no more. He submitted, allowing the darkness to consume him.

-x-x-x-x-x-

_He was stood in a forest, the trees all around lush and green. Looking down, he could see his body, his skin as clear as the day he was born, his armor whole and intact. His bow and daggers held a comfortable weight on his back and waist._

_He began to walk, though he had no idea where to. Maybe there wasn't a 'where', here. He didn't need to ask where he was. He had been here before._

_The Beyond._

_Though, this time, there was no going back._

_He continued to walk, and, as he did so, his surroundings seemed to become vaguely familiar. The Brecilian Forest. But it was different. No sickness hung over the trees, no evil stirring in the dark._

_Eventually, he came to a clearing, one that he had never come across before. He walked to the middle and sat on the floor._

_Was this his fate, now? To wander through the forest, with no direction and no destination? He didn't much like that idea._

_The air in front of him swirled, as though a portal were opening up in front of him. He stood up, his hands sliding to his daggers, taking comfort in the familiar feel of the hilts, the blades that had served him so well during the Blight._

_The swirling increased, and a voice rang out across the clearing._

"_NO!" it roared. "IT IS NOT YET YOUR TIME!"_


	2. Chapter 2

The swirling vortex in front of him began to pulsate, a bright white light shining out of the centre, forcing Aerion to bring a hand up, shielding his eyes. There was a noise like a great rushing of wind, thundering through the otherwise silent forest. Aerion forced his eyes shut, but it made no difference. The light was shining through his closed eyelids, pressing heavily against his eyeballs.

Just when he thought he wouldn't be able to take it anymore, the light died down. Slowly, cautiously, Aerion cracked his eyes open. The light was morphing into a vaguely humanoid shape, before dying away entirely, revealing a person standing in its place. No, not a human. An elf.

But this elf was unlike any Aerion had ever met before. He was tall, taller than a human, his long, blonde hair flowing down over his shoulders. His eyes were piercing blue, his skin perfectly smooth. Ornate silver armor covered his body, a delicately curved bow strapped across his back, the limbs adorned with Elvish script, and a long curved sword hung at his side, its shape reminiscent of a Dar'Missan. An intricate leaf design ran down the length of the blade, gleaming in the soft light of the Beyond.

Aerion had never even seen elves like this before. Was this one of the Creators? Was this Falon'Din, Friend of the Dead, the Elven Guide through the Beyond?

The elf walked forward, its stride long and graceful, seeming to glide rather than step. Aerion held his ground, not backing away, but still watching the elf carefully. He couldn't be killed here, after all, but the elf had an air of lethality about him.

The elf stopped a couple of feet from Aerion, then inclined his head respectfully.

"Welcome, _da'len_." he said, his voice soft and lilting, almost song-like. "My name is Hariel of Arlathan."

Aerion dropped to his knees, looking at Hariel in awe and wonder. All his life, he had heard stories of the elves of Arlathan, and here was one now, stood in front of him. The cruel irony was that no one would ever know.

"_Andaran atish'an_, Hariel of Arlathan." he said respectfully, his head bowed. "I am - "

"You are Aerion Mahariel, of the Sabrae clan." Hariel interrupted. "Commander of the Grey. We have been watching over you for some time. Rise, my child."

Aerion rose to his feet, still in awe of the elf.

"Why?" he asked, unable to tear his gaze from Hariel's face.

"We have watched over the _Elvhen_ since the fall of Elvhenan, when our people were enslaved by the magisters of the Tevinter Imperium. We have watched and waited, waited for the one who can return Elvhenan to its former glory."

Aerion's stomach twisted into knots. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going, but found he was unable to vocalize his suspicions.

"You are interesting, Aerion Mahariel. You defeated the _banalhan_, the Blight, almost singlehandedly. An impressive feat, one that few could achieve." Hariel smiled at him. "The Dreamers are very interested in you."

Aerion gaped for a few moments, barely able to believe that he was actually conversing with an Ancient Elf. When he finally found his voice again, he asked, "So what do you want from me?"

Hariel bowed his head.

"We want you to retake Arlathan, to rebuild Elvhenan."

Aerion couldn't speak. All his life, he had dreamed of seeing Arlathan, of reclaiming what rightfully belonged to his people. But now that the opportunity to do so was there, Aerion felt incredibly overwhelmed. The Elvhen had been subjugated for so long, much of their former strength was gone. Retaking Arlathan would be no easy feat.

"I am honored by your proposal," Aerion said slowly, fearful of offending the elf. "but Arlathan is in Orlais. I can't just march into Orlais and stake a claim on Arlathan. It would be tantamount to declaring war."

"Of that, we are very much aware." Hariel said. "but know that you would not be alone in doing so. Scattered across Thedas are various caches, hidden from the world by our people. I will show you the way to them. They will help you reclaim our people's birthright."

Despite this reassurance, there was still a large problem in Aerion's mind.

"I can't do this alone." he said, head dipping slightly.

"And you won't." Hariel said. "Our time here is almost over, and when you go back, I will merge myself with you. My knowledge will become your knowledge, my skills will become your skills."

Aerion frowned.

"That sounds a lot like possession." he said warily.

Hariel shook his head.

"No, it is not. I am not a Spirit, but a conscience. I have no control over you, but I can still communicate with you and lend advice when it is needed. If there are elves you wish to bring along, then by all means, do so."

"Why are you offering this?" Aerion asked. "And why to me?"

Hariel sighed, looking off into the distance, as though at some great unseen object.

"A great war is coming. The Elvhen must retake what is theirs, or else they will be lost to the annals of history forever. As they are now, elves will not survive the coming storm." He looked back at Aerion. "You must understand, this is not a crusade against humanity. This is a crusade for freedom, for our people."

Aerion paused, his mind racing. What Hariel was offering was something every Dalish elf had ever dreamed of, and yet he was unsure. There had to be a catch. But, then again, he was already dead; there was nothing more that Hariel could do to him. As far as he could see, he had nothing to lose, and an awful lot to gain.

"Very well." he said finally. "I accept your offer."

Hariel smiled at him.

"Thank you, _da'len_. You do a great service to your people." Hariel motioned with his hand. "You must return soon, but first, I must speak with you." He began walking, and Aerion walked alongside him.

"When you return, you will be changed." Hariel said, not looking at Aerion. "I have no corporeal form outside of the Beyond. Instead, I must inhabit a host, as I have already said. What this will mean for you is that my abilities will become yours. You will find yourself possessing strength and speed you did not have before. Your senses will be sharper, and you will perceive the world differently because of it."

They continued through the forest, the air still and silent around them. But, unlike his trek through the Brecilian Forest in search of Tamlen, it was not sinister. Instead, it felt peaceful.

"There is more." Hariel continued. "In the time of Elvhenan, our people did not grow sick. You will have an extended lifespan; you will become as your ancestors were; immortal. Only a blade can end your life."

"The Dalish have spent their lives trying to reclaim this birthright." Aerion said, "I do not fear that fate."

Hariel nodded approvingly.

"You are brave indeed, _da'len_." His pace began to slow. "We are here."

Aerion looked around him. They were standing in what appeared to be a Dalish camp, aravels and fires dotted around the clearing. Halla regarded him cautiously as they approached, eyes watchful. A craft bench sat nearby, covered in swords, daggers and bows. All the weapons were beautifully crafted, intricate designs ran the lengths of the blades and curved across the boughs of the bows.

"So much has been lost." Hariel said, looking around wistfully. "I shall be glad to see it returned once more." He turned to Aerion, who was looking around in awe at the combination of past and present. "Come. It is time."

The elf raised his hands, muttering under his breath. Energy began to swirl around his hands, light green and smoke-like. He directed his hands at the ground, and a large ward began to sprout on the forest floor, the design elegant and twisting, like none Aerion had ever seen before.

"Step onto the rune, Aerion Mahariel, and discover your destiny."

Aerion took a deep breath and stepped forward, his legs moving as though independent from any conscious thought. As he stepped onto the green ward, the rune shone brighter, the light reflecting off his greaves, casting dancing patterns across the floor around him.

"Close your eyes and count to ten." Hariel instructed. "When you open them again, you will be back in the Keep."

Aerion closed his eyes.

_One. Two. Three._

Images flashed through his mind, slowly at first, but soon they flooded in.

_Four. Five._

Towering, glittering cities. Huge expanses of land. Legions of warriors.

_Six. Seven. Eight._

Words flooded his conscience, words he had never heard before, but he knew the meaning of them all.

_Nine. Ten!_

He opened his eyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Silence descended over the Keep, every combatant having stopped fighting to witness the display at the top of the stairs. No sound could be heard as the Warden-Commander tumbled down the stone steps, landing in a heap at the foot. Except one.

"NO!"

Seneschal Varel ran forward, armor caked in black darkspawn blood, sword held uselessly at his side. He dropped to his knees by Aerion's body, followed closely be Velanna and Anders.

"The Wardens are finished!" the Disciple roared, and the darkspawn forces crowed in victory. Anders reached out with a hand, checking Aerion's body for any signs of life. When he withdrew his hand, his expression was sombre.

"He's gone."

Velanna stared down at her Commander. She entire life had been spent in hatred of humans, and now Aerion, the person who had shown her that the two races could live harmoniously, lay dead at her feet. Anger bubbled up inside of her. She glared at the Disciple, magic twisting in tendrils around her hands.

The Disciple walked slowly, calculatingly, down the steps, his gaze fixed on the Seneschal and the two Wardens, who all rose as he approached.

"You will kneel." he snarled, his eyes burning into each of theirs. Tey stared back defiantly.

"I will die before I kneel before you, darkspawn." Varel spat.

The Disciple made a noise that could have been construed as a laugh, then lashed out with a clenched fist, backhanding the man across the face. Varel was sent sprawling to the floor, his sword skittering away from him. Anders growled, raising his staff, but the Disciple caught the end, twisting it out of the mage's grip and smacking it across Anders' back. The wood splintered, and with no armor to protect him, Anders sunk to his knees, howling in pain.

Velanna surged to her feet, lightning crackling loudly around her hands. She thrust out, sending a bolt of lightning at the darkspawn, who caught the bolt on his sword, the electricity dying out as it coursed up the steel. Dropping the weapon, he strode forward and slammed a fist into Velanna's stomach before she had a chance to launch another attack. Velanna stumbled back, doubled over, dropping to one knee, all the breath forced from her lungs by the savage blow.

The Disciple picked up his sword again, slowly walking toward her, as a hunter might stalk his prey.

"If you will not kneel," he said, looking down at the First. "then you will die."

He raised his sword above his head. Velanna looked up, watching her death approach as the heavy sword swung through the air. She bowed her head.

"Falon'Din, guide me to my ancestors." she whispered. Her eyes closed, for the last time.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Aerion opened his eyes with a gasp. He was lying on the stone ground of Vigil's Keep's courtyard. All around him, pools of deep red blood mixed with black as they spread across the floor. Bodies and weapons lay everywhere.

Aerion lay where he was for the moment, checking himself over. He seemed to be in perfect condition, better even than he had been before the battle started, indeed, better than he had been before he set out with Duncan, eighteen months ago, as though his journey to the Beyond had healed him of his injuries.. He reached out carefully, his hands finding purchase of his blades. He dragged them closer, gripping them tightly.

A grunt of pain, followed by an almost animalistic howl caused Aerion to turn his head. He saw Anders collapse to the ground, saw Velanna fold, saw the Disciple swing his sword.

"Oh, no you don't." he growled. With a speed, strength and dexterity that defied belief, he pushed himself off the ground, leaping the distance and thrusting his blades into the path of the Disciple's swing. Steel met steel with a loud clang, arresting the darkspawn sword's momentum. The Disciple and Velanna looked up in surprise, neither expecting the intrusion. With a roar, Aerion twisted the Disciple's sword away from the other Dalish elf, taking advantage of the opening to land a punch square into the Disciple's face.

The Disciple rallied quickly, swinging at Aerion. The elf brought his blades up to block the strike, steel meeting steel again.

"Nice trick." the Disciple growled, pressing against Aerion. "But I killed you once. I will kill you again."

"No," Aerion growled. "you won't." He disengaged, then went straight back on the offensive, blades seemingly feather-light in his hands, steel whirling in a furious flurry, the Disciple suddenly on the back foot. Aerion lashed out again and again, until finally, a strike connected with the leather strap of the Disciple's shoulder guard, the armor falling from his right arm to clatter on the ground.

Aerion moved quickly. With one blade, he slipped through the Disciple's guard, slicing through its arm, while the other swung towards its neck. The Disciple roared, then was silenced as its head hit the floor, accompanied a split second later by its body.

Silence fell over the courtyard, defenders and darkspawn alike watching in morbid fascination as the Disciple fell. Then, as one, a mighty cheer rose from the defenders of Vigil's Keep. They rushed at the darkspawn, their strength seemingly renewed by the miraculous recovery of the Warden-Commander. The darkspawn fought voraciously, but they eventually turned tail, running from the Keep.

Aerion ran across the battlefield, cutting down any stragglers as he went, leaping onto the wall and drawing his bow.

"Archers!" he called. "On my mark!" He waited as the archers nocked arrows into their bows, even as he did so himself. "FIRE!"

A cloud of arrows buzzed through the air, felling darkspawn across the field.

"FIRE!" he shouted again. Another volley of arrows sped into the crowd of darkspawn, the lethal projectiles thinning their ranks even further. The darkspawn started to disperse, spreading out across the fields surrounding the keep.

"Take them down!" Aerion called, launching an arrow through a darkspawn with needle-point precision. The other archers quickly followed suit, dropping darkspawn left, right and centre. Aerion continued to rain arrows down on the darkspawn with unerring precision until he ran out. He noticed that his bow seemed much easier to draw as he fired two arrows for every one the humans fired.

"I think we've got them, Commander!" Varel called from below. Aerion nodded his understanding, descending from the wall as the remaining darkspawn fled, amidst cheers from the Keep.

Aerion returned his bow to his back as the Wardens, Garavel and Varel gathered around him.

"Commander, what happened?" Varel asked, putting voice to everyone's thoughts. "We saw you get stabbed. You should be dead."

Aerion sighed. This, he knew, would be the hard part.

"There is much to explain, Seneschal. I need some time alone before I tell the tale, to collect my thoughts. Meet me in the main hall in an hour."

Varel bowed.

"Yes, Commander."


	3. Announcement

**ANNOUNCEMENT**

Due to a hard drive failure that resulted in the deletion of all my notes and prewritten chapters, I have made the decision to go back and rewrite all of my current stories, adding to the chapters already posted and possibly changing up the narrative in some way.

This was not a decision I made lightly, though I feel it to be in the best interest of producing work of a high standard. I am sure that with the experience I have gained over the last couple of years writing fanfiction, as well as your constant support and criticism, I can improve my stories far beyond what they are now.

I have not yet decided whether to simply substitute the chapters within the current stories, or post them as new altogether. I am hopeful that this will also help me to kick the writer's block I have on some of my stories, as well as get rid of any lingering plot bunnies and touch up any continuity issues I did not pick up during the original writing.

Currently, I don't know how long this process will take, and I extend my most sincere apologies to those eagerly and patiently awaiting the latest chapters of my current stories. When I first started writing fanfiction, I vowed to never abandon my stories, and I assure you that still rings true. None of my stories will be abandoned during this transition.

Once again, I extend my apologies and thanks to you, my readers.


End file.
